


A Little Lonely

by Tarlan



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-07
Updated: 2004-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-17 08:38:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vin moves on without a word, and Chris misses him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Lonely

**Author's Note:**

> Just something that crawled into my head while I was listening to a song on the radio. The song, **The River Runs Low** is by Bruce Hornsby (and the Range)

_  
The rain held back again  
Haven't felt a drop since you went away  
Outside of town, the hills are brown  
I guess way out there you'd call 'em golden  
 **The River Runs Low**_ by **Bruce Hornsby**

* * *

The bounty hunter rode into town seven months back, clutching a wanted poster and intent on earning a five-hundred dollar reward for one particular man who had stayed too long in one place. Perhaps if Vin had kept his name to himself, or if he had taken another name while he had a price on his head then he might not have discovered his whereabouts, but Vin was proud of his name.

Vin Tanner.

Strange how simple words can do funny things to a man but every time Chris thought of those two words, either together or apart, he felt warmth pervading him along with an incredible sense of loss.

The man who rode into town that day had been only one among an ever-increasing number. They had started drifting in soon after Jock Steele published his dimestore novel, revealing Vin's name and the bounty on his head to anyone who could read. Most were quickly sent on their way, convinced by other members of the Seven that most of Steele's novel had been a fictional account. Others outstayed their welcome and ended up in permanent residence in the graveyard but more bounty hunters followed until it just was not safe for Vin to stay around any longer.

It seemed to Chris that the world stopped turning that last day, as if it could only move through the seasons while Vin Tanner stayed close by his side. The long, hot days of the summer seemed endless, and not a drop of rain had fallen in months. The mud from the last of the spring rains had baked hard into harsh ruts along the main street, forcing the men of the town to spend time trying to level out the worst of the ruts before another horse broke a leg, or a wagon its wheels. Outside of the town, the meadow grasses had dried to straw, turning from a luscious green to a dirty yellow-brown, though Vin -- ever the poet -- would have called them golden.

Tempers had risen with the heat then waned into apathy as the days lengthened with no respite from the heat. Over the last month, the town had slowly emptied as farmers and ranchers fought over the trickle of water barely flowing between their lands, but even these instances of violence had ebbed away like the water.

Chris had suffered his own share of words over water rights, though few were willing to go up against him head-on, preferring to sneak onto his land in the middle of the night to steal water, or drive their cattle across his land quickly, letting the cattle empty the small spring-fed pond and eat the sweet grasses leaving little behind. Not that it mattered a whole lot to Chris as he still had enough water left for the string of horses in his corral, and the spring replenished the pond, albeit slowly. It was the principle of the thing that mattered. Stealing was stealing, though Chris had yet to turn away a farmer in real trouble, knowing times were harsh enough without the fear of watching loved ones going hungry and thirsty.

If it were not for his dislike of ranchers like James and Royal then Chris might have moved back into the town for the duration rather than split his time between town and the small homestead he had built, and leave all the water to the neighboring farmers. However, the town seemed even lonelier than the shack despite the people milling about. At least here he *knew* he was alone but in town, even with five friends around him, he felt Vin's absence keenly like an ache in his bones; a deep-seated ache that only seemed to intensify when he was with the others.

Nathan had described the ache as the phantom pain of a missing limb that soldiers would complain about after losing an arm or leg in the war. It seemed an apt description of how he felt. Since the moment they met Vin had become so much a part of him, always by his side, sharing meals, whiskey, and even the occasional woman.

Strange how his loneliness increased as he thought back on those shared women, recalling the pleasure both in watching Vin and in knowing those sharp eyes watched him in turn. He smiled softly in remembrance of Vin's firm, pale ass rising and falling as he thrust into the instantly forgettable saloon whore. Then there were the moments when they would touch inadvertently, and that one time when one faceless whore had guided both of them into her body together and he had felt the heat of Vin's flesh against his as they sandwiched the woman between them.

He felt a fresh wave of heat, of guilty embarrassment rising, as he wondered of what it would have been like without the woman between them, but he quickly dampened that illicit thought. No sense tempting providence when those thoughts could never go anywhere.

Vin was gone.

"Should've gone with him," Chris muttered but Vin had given him little choice in the matter. Vin had told him that he only intended to be gone for a few days, just to let things settle down after Chris had called out that latest bounty hunter and spilled the man's blood on the main street.

"Should've known he intended to light out for good."

His soft words seemed to hang heavy in the silence of the shack and he could no longer deny that his actions had driven Vin away. He had seen a hint of fear in Vin's eyes on that day Tophat Bob called him out, but there had been nothing but rage in Vin's eyes on the day he killed that bounty hunter for no reason other than because he had come looking for the bounty on Vin's head.

What had Vin said that day? That he had no right to fight his battles for him. That he could look after himself. That the man was just doing a job... just as he had done before falling in with Chris and the others.

Had that been the problem? Chris wondered if Vin had identified with the man he had shot, perhaps seeing a distorted reflection of himself lying dead on the main street of some one-horse town, shot down while going after his legal quarry.

"Not the same, Vin," Chris spoke to the memory of his friend as the shadows lengthened inside the shack. "Mary had information on him. The man always went for those bounties wanted dead or alive, and he *never* took anyone back alive. The man knew you were innocent... and he still had no intention of taking you back alive." He sighed softly. "Man deserved to die. He was nothing more that a murderer using the law to sanction his killing."

Stupid pride had held Chris back from saying all this to Vin at the time, and he had paid for that pride in the loneliness of the four months following.

  
_The old man's getting on  
Keeps the morning paper in his overcoat  
It keeps him warm in the cold storm  
And he told me today I look a little lonely'_   


Old Man Watson had a soft spot for Vin, and that had encompassed Chris too after the day they saved Nathan from being hanged. It seemed to Chris that the man had aged considerably over this long, dry summer and then it occurred to him that Nettie Wells was not the only one to have -- sort of -- adopted Vin. Maybe that was why Chris had always felt such respect for Old Man Watson as well as for Nettie Wells and Gloria Potter. They accepted Vin as he was, seeing beyond the rough-looking, illiterate, ex-bounty hunter to the inner beauty and compassion of the man that put so many other god-fearing folks to shame.

Did they feel a little lonely too, now that Vin had gone?

Chris shivered as the sun set, bringing a sudden drop in temperature with every indication of another storm brewing yet without the promise of rain. Looking across the plain a man could see the clouds touching the slopes of the mountains, and even though the air might crackle, releasing its energy as forked lightning, the rain had stayed away, falling instead upon the far side of those distant mountains. If they were lucky then an overspill might see some of that rain trickle into the rivers and bring desperately needed water for the livestock.

Certainly, they needed the rains to come soon before the likes of James and the other ranchers took to killing the small shareholders for the trickle of water on their lands.

  
_Up in the air they're heading south  
The sky is light to the west of town  
With a little cash I could get around  
You know I'd come out there and find you'_   


He lit the fire in the belly of the stove and set a pot of coffee brewing, all the while chewing thoughtfully on the cheroot caught between his teeth. Today he had seen the first signs of the coming winter as the very few birds who had not already taken flight in search of a more hospitable climate took to the air. Most were heading south towards the lushness of Central America -- or maybe beyond.

Chris stepped out onto the porch and stared out into the encroaching darkness. The sky was still light in the west beyond where he knew the small town lay and he watched until the blanket of night covered the last of the daylight. In the east, the gathering storm clouds began to blot out even the starlight as they rolled over the plain pregnant with rain, and Chris hoped they would release their heavy load over this part of the land rather than carry it onwards as they had two nights before.

The darkness of the night was complete now, with every star hidden. A fork of lightning zagged across the sky, burning the air and searing Chris's eyes with its luminance leaving a physical memory imprinted as an after-vision that faded in time. He counted slowly until the rumble of thunder echoed across the night sky, guessing the storm to be at least fifteen and maybe twenty miles away.

Chris frowned as if the electricity in the air had zapped the cobwebs from his mind. What was he waiting for? That last communication from Vin had come from the west, over towards California. If he sold just one of the horses then he would have enough cash to get by -- and find Vin.

Then what?

More lightning followed and Chris counted each time, noting that the storm was coming closer this time rather than receding towards the mountains. Another flash of forked lightning illuminated the land, and Chris drew his gun almost as fast as he caught the silhouette of a man standing not twenty feet away from him.

"Who's there?"

"Chris?"

Chris lowered the gun.

"Vin?"

He took a step forward off the porch, freezing as the clap of thunder came almost directly overhead, deafening him with its volume and making the ground tremble beneath his feet. The first fat droplet of rain kicked up the dust, illuminated by the meager light spilling through the shack's open doorway. A second droplet bounced off the tip of his boot, and then another hit his face as he looked up in momentary distraction.

Then it poured, coming down in sheets like water flowing over a fall, drenching him to the skin in moments, and yet he remained motionless, staring back at the slowly approaching figure.

"It's raining, Larabee. Ain't you going to invite me in?"

For the first time in months Chris smiled and indicated towards the shack, too relieved to see Vin again to want to lose him so quickly through a show of stubbornness. He closed the door softly behind them and stared at Vin, watching as the man dropped his sopping wet hat onto the tabletop and then shrugged out of the buckskin jacket.

"Damn, but that rain's cold."

Vin turned and Chris found another wry smile as he took in the bedraggled man with hair plastered to his face. He knew he looked no better but that did not seem to matter. It was just so good to see Vin again and to feel the heavy weight of his loneliness lifted by the bright smile and sparkling blue eyes. Vin's grin dropped away.

"Missed ya, Chris. Not a day went by when I didn't think about you." He paused as if uncertain how to continue. "I ain't sorry for leaving... but I am real sorry for not telling you face to face."

Chris nodded, knowing the apology was genuine by the guilt and remorse in Vin's expressive eyes.

"Coffee?" Chris asked as he grabbed two tin cups and lifted the pot.

"Sounds good to me, Cowboy."

Cowboy. The word chipped the last vestiges of cold loneliness from him, warming him from the inside out despite his soaked clothing. It felt so good to hear that word roll off Vin's tongue, never having seen it as a term of endearment as well as one of friendship before this day, but he could not mistake the tone. Vin's voice was husky, as if choked by emotions barely held at bay, and Chris could see a new light in Vin's eyes that reminded him of a hungry wolf looking upon a feast.

It was not a lie. Vin had missed him, and that eased a little more of his pain at being left behind. He bit down on his lip as Vin kicked off his boots and then began to ease out of his wet clothing. The lamp light cast a golden glow on the quickly revealed flesh, glistening from the droplets of rain that had soaked through the layers of Vin's clothing. The small nipples were peaked with the cold, and damp curls lay plastered against the goosebump flesh.

"You'll catch ya death in them wet clothes." Vin's eyes raked the length of Chris's body, the touch of his eyes almost a physical caress that sent shivers through Chris that had nothing to do with the cold, wet clothing stuck to his body.

With a slight chuckle of embarrassment at being caught staring at Vin while he removed his sodden clothes, Chris finished pouring the coffee and then reached for his own soaked clothing, quickly stripping down to his undergarments before grabbing a couple of spare blankets. He threw one to Vin and then, after removing the last of his wet clothing, he wrapped his blanket about his cold, damp skin and sat down at the table, waiting for Vin to join him.

They drank the coffee in silence until Chris felt the need to say what he should have said to Vin all those months earlier.

"I **had** to kill him. He weren't interested in taking you back to Tascosa alive."

"I know. Heard tale of Quintus Brooks during my bounty hunting days. Fast with a gun and always figured dead was better than alive when bringing in a bounty." Vin put down his coffee. "I didn't want you to die for me, Chris."

"I'm fast with a gun, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Always gonna be someone faster. Ain't that something you said once?" Vin looked hard into Chris's eyes. "You scared me, Cowboy. I ain't never felt that scared before... least not since my mama died. Figured I couldn't go through that again, and maybe the only way to keep you from scaring me like that was to get as far away from you as I could."

"Then why'd you come back?"

Vin shook his head and curled up one side of his mouth. He gave a bitter laugh. "Seems no matter how far I went I just couldn't get you off my mind. Spent a lot of days just thinking about you, and why you was so important to me. Finally figured out why my chest was hurting so bad all the time." He paused, head tilting a little defensively, as if he had no idea what to expect after his next words. "I missed you, Larabee. Guess I was a little lonely."

From his expression, Chris did not think Vin expected to hear him laugh but Chris could not help the bubble of merriment rising up inside him and bursting. Vin's comical expression only made Chris laugh harder but he reached out and briefly snared Vin's wrist, trying to sober his thoughts when Vin started to look a little annoyed.

"Not laughin' at you, Vin... well maybe a little but... Hell, Vin, what a pair we make." He looked down at the tabletop for a moment to collect his thoughts. "A little lonely." Chris laughed almost bitterly as he heard an echo of those words from Old Man Watson; he swallowed past the lump in his throat before looking back up. "Always figured I was a little lonely since losing Sarah and Adam... and I didn't care. Least not until the day you rode out on me, and then I realized what it truly felt like to be alone."

Vin gave a soft, regretful sigh as his words sank in, and then he looked at Chris askance.

"You remember that whore we shared in Dry Gulch?"

"Yeah." Chris frowned at the change of subject.

"Ever wonder how it would have been without the whore?"

Chris took a quick, deep breath, holding it for a moment in semi-shock at having his earlier, illicit thought stated openly... and then released the breath slowly. "Yeah."

Vin rose from the table leisurely and took several steps across the shack until he stood beside the rough-hewn bed facing Chris. He let the blanket drop from around his naked body to pool at his feet, his invitation clear.

"So have I."

Chris froze, staring in shock at the sight before him. Until this moment, he had never thought a man could be beautiful but the firm, lightly golden flesh called to his blood, sending it flooding downwards and making him lightheaded.

"Chris?"

The husky voice caressed his name even as Vin's arms rose to beckon him into his embrace. Chris could not resist this siren call and he followed him to the bed, holding his covering tight around him like a security blanket. He stopped in front of Vin, leaning into the fingers that caressed his stubbled cheek, and tentatively swiping his tongue at the thumb that rubbed over his lips. He had no idea how to play this, having never been with a man, least not alone. He thought of the whore they had taken to bed that night and how she had touched Vin, wondering if...

Vin's hand covered his fingers as they still held tight to the blanket; slowly drawing them open until the blanket slipped away to join Vin's on the floor. Chris gasped as a rough fingernail scraped over a nipple, sending a spike of pleasure though him like forked lightning. Firm lips covered his as that finger played him again, the hungry mouth swallowing his gasp of pleasure before a blunt tongue thrust inside him as if seeking more. He moaned against the onslaught of mouth, tongue and fingers.

With senses spinning, he reached for Vin, his fingertips tingling as they made contact with cool, damp skin. Vin moaned, grinding his lower body against Chris, thrusting one leg between Chris's thighs to increase the contact, groin to groin with flesh on flesh. Chris felt the warm curve of a firm ass cheek in each hand as he thrust against the hardness of Vin's belly and shaft, shouting his ecstasy all too soon into Vin's devouring mouth as months of abstinence and loneliness ended with wave after wave of joyous release.

He was barely aware of the sensation of falling until they hit the bed, his heart beating too rapidly, breaths shuddering from his trembling body as Vin held him tightly. Rolling to one side, Chris lay on his back staring up at the ceiling, listening to the rain drumming on the roof above, and waiting until he had his breathing back under control before turning his head towards Vin.

In the soft lighting of the cabin, Vin's face lay in shadow but Chris knew he was smiling, having tasted Vin's ecstasy in his muffled cry of release only moments before his own.

"Guess that's one more question answered," said Chris softly.

"Hmmm?"

"Now we know what it's like without the whore."

Vin leaned up onto one elbow, smiling lazily. "Better than with," he stated huskily.

"Got another question. What happens now?"

"Know what I'd like to see happen." His fingers drifted over Chris's flesh, drawing patterns in the spent seed coating Chris's belly and sending fresh tingles of exquisite sensation rippling through him.

"Stay or go?"

The fingers stopped moving. "Stay... together. Don't matter where. Just want us to stay together."

Chris let his head roll back; his smile growing as Vin draped his body over him possessively, knowing he would never again feel a little lonely as long as he had Vin by his side.

THE END


End file.
